


Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.

by lowsywriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Derek feels bad about everything, Erica is a bad influence, Frottage, M/M, Poor Derek, Rutting, Scott is oblivious, Somnophilia, Stiles is a cocktease, Stiles is a little slag, i like my boys in makeup sue me, kind of, my first Sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-08 22:05:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3225146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowsywriter/pseuds/lowsywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There’s a piece of jailbait sprawled on the front yard as he parks his Camaro behind an electric blue jeep.  He is wearing a white t-shirt and chinos and he is very wet, so much that the shirt is almost transparent and Derek has a hard time not staring.  He looks like the beginning of a good porn movie."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Weeeell, this is my first attempt at Sterek and I'm kinda nervous. In the fic Stiles just turned sixteen and Derek is twenty-three. Also, the story is completely unbetaed and English is not my first language (so if there's any mistakes just let me know and I'll fix it) chop chop!

Derek is going home from uni.  It’s almost rush hour and he is trying to decide if he is gonna pick chinese take-out or pizza, and he feels guilty when his phone rings and _mom_ is displayed on the screen; his mother is known for her uncanny radar for all things Derek and he suspects she is calling to lecture him about healthy habits.  But when he answers it’s Melissa’s cheerful voice who greets him.

“Cachorro, hi, how’s the big city?” she asks, and Derek cringes at the term of endearment.

“Dirty, overpopulated, and full of hipster shops” the old lady sitting next to him looks vaguely insulted at his answer, he decides to ignore her “how are you doing?”

“We are alright, Scott barely made it in school and he is grounded,” she says, scoffing as Derek rolls his eyes “also, Talia and I are going to a cruise around the Caribbean and we need you to take care of your brother” she adds in a rush.  “Derek, _cachorro_ , you are the only one available” Melissa goes on before he even starts to protest; “Laura and Cora are backpacking in South America and Peter… well, he _can’t_ ”

He decides to count to ten before saying something. He doesn’t have plans or anything but being trapped in Beacon Hills for the duration of the summer taking care of a teenager is not his idea of a vacation. But he is incapable on saying no to Melissa, which he suspects is the reason she is the one calling and not mom.  He lets her stew in the uncomfortable silent for a little while longer before agreeing.  He is not happy about it, but his mothers deserve a little vacation and Melissa promises to make him some authentic mexican food before leaving to their idyllic honeymoon.

_

There’s a piece of jailbait sprawled on the front yard as he parks his Camaro behind an electric blue jeep.  He is wearing a white t-shirt and chinos and he is very wet, so much that the shirt is almost transparent and Derek has a hard time not staring.  He looks like the beginning of a good porn movie. Scott is sleeping a few inches away, also wet, but his t-shirt is a sensible dark color.  There are some water guns lying around, too, so he guesses there was a water war involved at some point (but for the life of him, Derek can’t think of a good enough reason for napping in wet clothes).  He walks towards Scott prone figure and kicks him softly.

“Five more minutes” it’s what he gets for his efforts, so he tries again, not so softly.

“WHAT THE... hey Derek!” Scott blinks his big brown eyes at him and starts getting up, he then goes and shakes the other guy to wake him up. “Stiles, bro, wake up.”

Oh. So the sleeping cutie is Stiles Stilinski, pain in the ass extraordinaire.  He has certainly grown up fine from the awkward kid he remembers.  He is very much a minor and it’s completely inappropriate to keep checking him up, Derek reminds himself.  Also, he is the sheriff's only son. Derek shudders; John Stilinski is a kind, fair man but he is clever and cunning and Derek is sure he will go to any lengths to protect his only living family.  He tries and fails to look away while Stiles gets up and stretches, his wet t-shirt riding up and exposing his slightly defined abs and the most tempting treasure trail Derek has ever seen.  He blinks and when he moves his eyes from the free show to Stiles face, the boy is smirking even when his cheeks are burning red, the little shit.

Derek decides, for his mental health, to turn around and go inside his house.  When he opens the door he is welcomed with a delicious smell and loud conversation coming from the kitchen.  He smiles and walks to where his moms are chatting and laughing, Melissa is very busy mixing something in a bowl while Talia drinks wine sitting in the breakfast bar.  Melissa notices him first, and she smiles and puts the bowl over the counter making her way towards him.

“Cachoro querido! You are here already!!!” she says, as she hugs him very very hard, murmuring Spanish endearments in his ear.  He hugs back and twirls her around the bright kitchen.  When he puts her on her feet Talia is smiling warmly, her arms wide open.  He hugs her too, happy to be home.

“I thought I heard the Camaro,” his mom tells him as he pulls him to the living room “I can’t believe you went to pick it up before coming home.”  She is frowning, but her eyes are bright with mirth.

“Well, I decided it was easier to fly from New York to San Francisco and drive from there;” Boyd studies at Berkeley and he takes care of Derek’s baby while he is away at NYU “Boyd and Erica send their regards and wish you a happy holiday.”

Derek and his mom chat for a while, Melissa joining them after putting together dinner.  A while later Scott and Stiles enter the house, drier and dirtier.  Derek doesn’t ask.  Scott asks if Stiles can stay and eat with them because his father is pulling a double shift and Melissa and Talia agree, while Stiles fist pumps.  Both boys go upstairs to clean up and Derek follows, because he needs to put his things away.  It’s not so he can stare at Stiles’ ass as he climbs the stairs, not at all.


	2. And where are you parked, my car-pet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am really surprised by the response this fic has got, i mean, wow! thanks to everyone that left a comment and/or kudos, they keep me motivated and make me wanna write more and more. 
> 
> and here's the new chapter; i am really sorry it took so long but it was my first week back at uni and i've been busy busy busy. again, this chapter is unbetaed. i hope you enjoy it!!!

Half an hour later Derek has unpacked all of his things in his old room and he’s so hungry his stomach growls.  As he walks downstairs he can hear laughter and conversation.  Stiles is talking fast about some adventure involving the woods, a broken flashlight and a ditch and Derek can picture him gesticulating wildly like when he was a kid all made of sharp angles and sass.  It’s a little heartwarming and Derek can’t stop smiling.  That’s it, until he arrives to the dining room and notices Stiles wearing his old varsity basketball t-shirt.  It’s loose around his shoulders, where Derek was broader and a little too big for him but he looks like a gift wrapped specially for Derek, and god, does he feel like a creep for staring as his little brother’s best friend.  Everyone seems oblivious to his inner turmoil as Melissa loads the table with heavenly smelling food and everyone takes a sit.  He goes to Laura’s usual spot at his mother left and Stiles sits beside him, flushed with mirth, his mouth is _pinkpinkpink_ and Derek has to force himself to look away. 

“Well Scott, I hope you had fun today playing outside with Stiles,” his mom says, as everyone starts eating “because I want to remind you you’re grounded”.

Scott groans, Stiles whines and Melissa holds back a giggle at the boys’ antics. “However, seeming that Stiles is a straight A’s student he is allowed to come to visit if he promises to help you study”.

Both of them look relieved at the news and Derek thinks that drowning himself in _pozole_ sounds like a good alternative to spending a month around Stiles; he’s sure his mental health will suffer less.

“Talia, you are the fairest of all women and I promise I’ll be here every day on the clock to help Scott with his grades,” answers Stiles, his big brown eyes guileless and Derek can’t help but think of Bambi, he turns his gaze to Melissa before waging “and Melissa, this _arroz con leche_ is to die for! You’ll have to teach me your secrets”.

His moms both blush and titter and Melissa serves Stiles another portion of dessert.  Stiles smiles around a spoonful and he looks innocent but there’s a wicked light in his eyes that is suggestive as hell.  Or, you know, Derek is making things up.  He is so very fucked.

**αβΩ **αβΩ **αβΩ******

Derek usually loves the rain.  How everything is blurred and muted and calm.  He loves to read a nice book, drink a cup of coffee and relax, lulled by the pitter-patter against his window.

But because luck is not on his side it’s summer and it is so humid he swears fishes could swim in the air around him. And he has to go outside. To pick up Stiles.

Fuck his life, seriously.

The thing is Stiles’ jeep is in the workshop; Scott is grounded so he can’t go out and he certainly can’t drive; and from all the grumbling and whining he heard through the wall, he needs all the help he can get to pass his English class.  So he, Derek Richard Hale, as the responsible adult has to go outside in the warm drizzle and give the most annoying ~~ly sexy~~ teenager this side of California a lift.

And he’ll probably get his baby’s seats wet, dammit!

_

 

Derek is not religious at all but he is praying to any deity who is paying attention because it seems that wet Stiles is a thing in his life now. A torturing, sexually frustrating, crime inducing thing. He wonders how Stiles gathered all that water between his front door and the Camaro. Really, it’s like his favorite fantasies are taking life and biting him on the ass and not in the fun way.

Stiles says hello to Derek, his smile soft and easy.  He looks down, coy, and his eyelashes are dark wet smudges against his high cheekbones.  Derek bites his tongue and starts the car, trying his best to ignore the tempting Ganymede sitting shotgun.

_

Things settle a little after a few weeks; which means that Derek is getting used to Stiles constant presence in his house.  At least Scott swears he is doing better and he has, in fact, made a dent in his summer reading list. 

It is routine now that Stiles arrives to the Hales-McCall while Derek is still making breakfast, Scott joins soon after, bleary-eye and sleepy and the three of them eat in relative silence.  Then Scott and Stiles go upstairs to study and Derek gets ready for his daily run at the preserve.  He usually comes back in time for lunch.  Stiles goes home mid-afternoon to made his dad dinner and he and Scott keep their skype open all night while they do other things on the computer. It’s nice and simpler than Derek expected; he is still very aware of Stiles at all times but it’s not as uncomfortable an urge as at the beginning.

Today is hot and clear, with an endless blue sky and barely any breeze.  It smells slightly like melting tar and the cicadas are filling the stagnant air with their song. Scott and Stiles decided that it was time for a break and headed outside half an hour ago.  They has been chatting indolently for a while now, their voices soft and sleepy while they rock back and forth in the old swing at the porch. It's Derek's turn to mown the lawn and he's taking his time, doing slow circuits around the grass. Everything is wrapped in a thick layer of laziness.

After a while Scott wants something cold to fight the oppressive heat, Derek suggests lemonade, Stiles popsicles.  At the end the popsicles win and Derek is faced with an insurmountable problem.

The naive sight of Stiles "eating" a popsicle.

His pink cheeks hollow, his mouth stained cherry red. There are lot of slurping noises. It's enough to make Derek tight in the crotch area but it's not his fault, ok? because Stiles is deep throating the unsuspecting thing. And Derek needs an ice cold shower. Right. Now. And to make matters more difficult Stiles is keeping eye contact with Derek during the entire thing, like the most torturing game of game chicken (and knowing Stiles, that's probably what it is). Derek doesn't look away, he is not gonna waste the free show even if he feels like a perv and he knows every image is going straight to his spank bank; he is a weak man.

The moment is broken by Scott -thank god for small mercies- who comes back from washing his hands, barreling towards Stiles screaming something about a video game and a hidden route or something. "Stiles man, we need to explore it!" he is saying, his tone excited. "Danny called me to tell me he is online right now and he can show us" he keeps talking as he yanks Stiles towards the door. "Dude, I heard you, let's get going" answers Stiles grinning softly.  Derek sighs and keeps on mowing the lawn while the two boys walk inside the house, but before closing the door Stiles turns around and waves his sticky fingers at him and winks.

The little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if someone wants to beta-read my works please send me a pm!
> 
> also, you can find me on tumblr as inmisericorde


	3. both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back with a new chapter, yay!!!!! and i just amped the rating...
> 
> thanks to the people who left kudos and comments and visited me on tumblr, you are the very best!!!!
> 
> again, i have no beta reader so any mistakes are mea culpa... chop chop

Derek knows it was a bad idea from the moment Erica and Stiles smirk at each other, their eyes twinkling mischievously.  It’s not that he’s mad at his best friends visiting for the weekend but he is very afraid about Stiles and Erica meeting and planning against his life.  “I’ll have your back, I promise” Boyd told him reassuringly when he called to vent about his worries, and that’s why Boyd is his best friend.  He is still unnerved though, because Erica and Stiles clicked at once and that can’t be healthy for anyone, lest of all himself.

“You know, if I wasn’t already banging a hot piece of ass I’ll tap that” Erica says as Scott and Stiles head outside.  Boyd is smiling faintly, the teddy bear he is at heart, but Derek cringes.  "He is just sixteen" Derek answers, because it’s true and because that’s the thought he is clinging to to keep his wits around that particularly tempting piece of jailbait.  “And he’s the sheriff only son, too”.  Erica smiles turns into a leer “oh, those are some goddamn good genes. John Stilinski is a total DILF,” her eyes look glassed over as she keeps going “I used to have a crush on him when we were in high school”.  Derek remembers because he can remember the awkward confused boners he used to get around hot men in uniforms around that time too. He blames all the girls around him for it, his moms and sisters watched procedural dramas and tittered about the hot detectives.

It gets worse when Erica suggest spending the weekend on a nearby beach and everyone gets excited about the idea, well, everyone but Derek who can’t help but feel trapped in the plot of a porno he can’t act on because the main character is a minor and he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his youth in jail, _thankyouverymuch_.

But Scott has been giving him the puppy eyes of doom and showing him his progress in his summer work (which he must admit is very impressive), and that paired with Stiles pouting at him 24/7, well, resistance is futile. Derek caves in like the weak weak man he is and on Friday night everyone is packing and Stiles is spending the night so they can drive to the beach very early on Saturday.

Erica decides that’s a great excuse for a pajama party, even though she is the only girl, and she ropes Stiles and Scott into it with her girl wiles. So when Boyd and Derek are watching movies and drinking beer they get ambushed by Stiles and Scott in makeup and frilly pajamas. They look kind of nice, actually, and the way Stiles eyes pop up thanks to the eyeliner and mascara and his mouth looks lush and glossy should be banned from any self-respecting nation where teenagers are not allowed to look like succubus out of wet dreams. The pajamas look ridiculous, and the boys are very aware so they laugh and sit on the floor in an unlady-like manner. Erica comes not much later in an old lacrosse t-shit and sensible flannel trousers, her wild hair piled up in a bum and her face free of any makeup; she sits on Boyd lap and puts her feet over Derek legs.  They get settled and watch the movie for a while and Derek is kind of tired, so he falls asleep where he is, lulled by the hushed conversation of his friends and the explosions on the screen.

When he wakes up everything is dark and there’s someone settled on his chest, someone with light brown hair and long limbs and moles everywhere on his creamy skin. He groans inwardly as Stiles’ breath shuffles the hair at his nape. Stiles, of course, still looks good enough to eat; with his pretty mouth shinny and open and his eyelashes a dark smudge against his pale cheeks. His body is heavy and warm, with the suppleness of a still growing boy but also with a new gained definition around shoulders and arms. Their legs are intertwined and there’s no space between them from chest to crotch, so the growing bulge in Stiles short is both obvious and mocking for Derek who can feel his own dick perk in interest.

It get worse, for Stiles starts panting and rutting against Derek’s hip, his breath hitching and his cock getting harder thanks to the friction. Derek is not far behind, grinding his teeth trying to resist his own impulses and not knowing what to do. Waking Stiles up sounds like a bad idea but if the frantic movements above him continue, his control is gonna snap and he’ll end up doing something he’ll regret.

“Derek, please _please_ ” Stiles murmurs as he licks his lips. He looks desperate and starts undulating his hips in earnest and keening at the back of his throat. He keeps at it for less than a minute and then he moans brokenly and Derek feels something wet and warm bursting against his skin. It’s in that moment that Stiles opens his eyes and makes a soft _oh_ sound. He doesn’t get up at once, but Derek can see a blush extending from his cheeks down to his throat and probably covering his chest, too.

“Derek, I’m so sorry, I swear to god I was just sleepy and you look very comfortable… I…” he babbles, looking everywhere but Derek’s eyes, “I didn’t mean to assault you while you slept… fuck… you are so hot but I wouldn’t… I swear… please believe me.”

“Stiles, calm the fuck down” he says, his voice as soft and soothing as he can while sporting an erection that can drill through a wall “and get off me, I need to go to the bathroom now.”

At that, Stiles looks at him and squirms, finally realizing he’s been poked by Derek’s hard dick and slowly, _slowly_ getting up. He watches Derek’s bulge with a mix between amusement and hunger, his eyes growing darker. But before he can say anything, or proposition in a time when Derek is too gone to say no, Derek flees (it’s a manly escape, mind you) and locks himself in the bathroom, he gets in the shower and wanks, and when he comes he doesn’t know if it was the best or worst orgasm he has gotten in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come visit me at tumblr, I'm inmisericorde and fictionhomo


End file.
